


Instincts

by amiphobic



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Case Fic, F/F, Gen, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-03 09:02:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2845457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amiphobic/pseuds/amiphobic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So,” Root’s voice was higher than usual – poorly hidden panic if Shaw had to guess, “short of murdering someone, how do you get a baby to stop crying?”</p>
<p>Team Machine and their (second) accidental baby acquisition – this time under the care of Root and Shaw.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between 4x05 (Prophets) and 4x07 (Honor Among Thieves).
> 
> I tried to stay faithful to the episodic format of Person of Interest - that is, how I think an actual episode like this would play out. Unavoidably, I focused more on Root and Shaw than the show would've. I hope you enjoy~

Fusco peeked around the front of the Subaru and recoiled just in time as bullets sprayed the air where his head had just been. His breaths came faster – sharper – as a bead of sweat trickled down his cheek. The shooter rounded the parked cars in an attempt to get a clear line of fire, each shot getting closer and closer to its mark.

With a roar, a black SVU rushed forward and crashed into the shooter’s side, flinging his body onto the pavement, rendering him unconscious. The door swung open and Reese stepped out, submachine gun slung around his shoulders casually.

“Hello, Lionel.”

Scowling, Fusco asked, “Now how are we supposed to explain that? Cops don’t just go around running people down, you know?”

“Well, if you don’t want to get hit by a car you shouldn’t stand in the middle of a parking lot,” Reese said sensibly.

Another man clad in black approached them, pistol raised, ready to fire. Before either Reese or Fusco had a chance to react, a bullet ripped through fabric and flesh, and the would-be assailant collapsed to the concrete clutching his bleeding knee with a shriek.

“ _You’re welcome_ ,” Shaw’s smug voice filtered over Reese’s earpiece.

“Shaw,” he acknowledged.

“Great,” Fusco said. “Just another thing I’ll need to explain in my report.”

“Everything’s taken care of,” Reese said, two fingers pressing on the device in his ear. “I’m heading back to you now, Finch.”

“ _Excellent work, Mr. Reese.”_

* * *

Shaw packed up her sniper rifle and shouldered the case’s strap, the pleather digging into her bone. Pivoting, she checked the room one last time, eyes scanning for any discrepancies that might give her away. Then she headed down the stairs and out the back, nearly crashing into a taller hooded figure.

“Sorry,” Shaw muttered, already turning away, cold night air biting at her skin.

“Don’t be,” they said, side-stepping to block her path, face still obscured from Shaw’s view. “You’re just the person I was looking for.

The faded grey sweatpants and university hoodie revealed nothing, but Shaw recognized the voice. She rolled her eyes, jaw clenching as irritation shot through her.

“Root.”

Root’s painted red lips stretched into a lazy smile as she turned to face Shaw. Leaning one shoulder against the chipped brick wall, Root said, “Tonight’s reminded me why I was such a big fan of yours in the first place.”

Pointedly ignoring the compliment, Shaw asked, “Are you stalking me?”

“What can I say? I’ve missed you,” Root said, stepping closer to her, eyes twinkling. Shaw’s glare didn’t waver. “Don’t tell me you haven’t missed me even a little bit.” Root pouted ridiculously, and Shaw wanted to hit her and bite her all at once.

“If I say ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder,’ will you leave me the hell alone?”

Root’s lips curved into a smirk.

“What’s – uh – what’s with the get-up?” Shaw asked, gesturing at her clothing.

“I’m Vicky Clint, college student,” Root said mockingly, twirling a strand of hair with her finger. “It’s been a bit of a challenge, tricking people into thinking I’m ten years younger.”

Shaw sighed, “So what do you want, Root?”

“I need your help with a number,” and before Shaw could protest, Root continued, “I’m sure Finch and the big lug will somehow manage without your presence. Besides, don’t we always have a _lot_ of fun together?” Her voice dropped low and teasing at the end.

Shaw narrowed her eyes and stalked off. She didn’t expect to out-walk Root, but maybe now she’d get to the fucking point.

“It’ll most likely involve arson and grand larceny,” Root sing-songed, breaking into a slight jog to keep up with her faster strides (much to Shaw’s satisfaction; shorter legs be damned). She continued, “Breaking and entering, a few explosions, the usual.”

It sounded exactly like what they’d both call a good time. With a barely suppressed grin, Shaw stopped and swiveled abruptly, causing Root to collide with her. Shaw pushed Root back and away, palm pressing firmly into Root’s stomach.

“Fine, as long as you stop following me.”

“I have to be on my way anyway,” Root said sweetly.

“Where are you going?”

Root raised an eyebrow like she’d caught Shaw in the act of caring.

“Some last minute preparations,” Root said as evasively as ever, “but I’m touched you asked.”

Shaw grunted.

“I’ll swing by to pick you up after your shift tomorrow. See you then, Sameen.”

After this was all over, Shaw planned on getting at least one good punch in.

* * *

Shaw entered the musty abandoned subway station with quiet footsteps, but Reese managed to sense her anyway.

“What took you so long?” he asked.

Finch looked up, light flashing off his glasses, similarly expecting an answer.

“Got held up by our friend, the reformed psychopath.”

“Is everything alright?” Finch asked, a little alarmed.

“She needs my help with something,” Shaw said with a hard exhale. “You boys gonna be okay without my help for a day or two?”

“Quite,” Finch said, returning his attention to the screens in front of him. “Though if you could keep us up to date throughout the mission, it’d be very much appreciated, Ms. Shaw.”

“If I shoot her you’ll be the first to know,” Shaw promised.

“Have fun,” Reese said with a slight smile.

“Oh, I will,” Shaw said. One way or another, she thought.

* * *

The next morning, Reese got comfortable behind his desk and set about filling out the never-ending stack of paperwork. After an hour or so he moved on to reading the other reports on his desk – mentions of possible Triad activity, the Brotherhood, vandalism, robbery, and so on. It was hard knowing that even with the Machine’s numbers, it would never really be enough.

His phone buzzed insistently, breaking his reverie.

“Detective Riley speaking.”

“ _We’ve got a new number, Mr. Reese,_ ” Finch said.

“I’m on my way.”

Good, he felt like he had real purpose again.

* * *

“Marc Miller,” Finch said, taping their number’s picture to the window of the subway car. “Twenty-one and currently a student at NYU.”

“Any other insights as to why the Machine gave us his number?” Reese asked, bending to take a closer look at Marc’s profile.

“Mr. Miller’s tuition and other expenses are being paid for by his moderately affluent parents,” Finch said stiffly. “So presumably it’s not a matter of money.”

“Any enemies then?”

“The rival fraternity perhaps?” Finch suggested. “He and a few other boys got into a little trouble during initiation hazing.”

Reese’s brow furrowed. “I’ll get eyes on him.”

“And I’ll use my position as ‘Professor Whistler’ to see if I can find more information on the incident,” Finch said.

* * *

Shaw stood outside, pulling at the hem of her tight dress as she waited for Root. Hopefully, there would be time for her to change into something more comfortable. No way was she going to do this mission in heels.

“Sam,” she heard as Root’s arm hooked through hers, dragging her into walking with Root. Shaw made to pull apart, but Root gripped Shaw’s bicep with her free hand, stilling the movement.

“What are you doing?” Shaw asked through gritted teeth.

“We’re on a date,” Root said cheerfully. She was enjoying this, and that made Shaw hate her all the more.

Still, she rolled her eyes rather than waste time arguing and asked, “So, who’s our number?”

“Dr. Melinda Cordero,” Root said, tilting her mouth down towards Shaw’s ear as they walked. “Tenured accounting professor. Single, but she recently adopted a baby girl.”

Shaw took in Root’s attire – jeans and a loose-fitting periwinkle sweatshirt – and asked, “New cover?”

“Josephine Mauchly,” Root said. And then more reluctantly, “Nanny.”

Shaw’s eyebrows jumped up as she realized, “So you’re gonna be looking after her kid?”

“So it seems.”

“The baby’s probably the one who’s in danger then,” Shaw snickered.

Root looked unimpressed and said, “Make fun all you want, but at least _my_ crappy job only lasts till the end of the mission.”

Shaw frowned at the reminder of the hours behind the make-up counter she’d spent and would continue to spend. Feeling a little less smug, she asked, “Where are we going?”

“Dr. Cordero’s apartment,” Root said. “I’m on the clock soon.”

“Why do you need me then?”

“You’ll see.”

Cryptic Root was by far her least favorite Root.

Shaw glared, purposefully slowing down.

“You’ll be tailing the professor,” Root relented.

“Can I at least change into something less…?” Shaw gestured at her inconvenient attire.

“No time,” Root said with a patronizing smile. “Besides, I _really_ like the new look.”

Shaw ripped her arm out from Root’s grasp.

* * *

Finch limped into his office, cane steady in his hand, and got set up at the desk. Going through the school’s records proved an easy enough hack, and he read through the incident reports filed on Marc Miller.

“It looks like the incident with the rival fraternity was resolved amicably,” Finch said.

Reese responded, “ _No chance anyone’s holding a grudge then?”_

“The report says it was settled through mediation and that no further action is necessary.”

“ _Mediation?_ ”

“A cushy word for bribery, I’m assuming. How is finding Mr. Miller?”

“ _Still haven’t gotten close enough to bluejack his phone, but otherwise it’s been quiet._ ”

“Alright, I’ll keep digging around in the meantime.”

* * *

“Professor Cordero will be down soon enough,” Root said, adjusting her navy blue purse strap. “Good luck.”

The apartment complex that loomed overhead was modern and simplistic with far too many windows for Shaw’s liking. Still, there were worse places to try to defend.

“Here’s hoping the baby loses its lunch all over you,” Shaw said, mood improving a little at the imagery alone.

Root wrinkled her nose but didn’t deign to reply.

About five minutes later, a middle-aged Hispanic woman (Shaw hazarded a guess of late 40s) emerged from the building and headed towards the nearby bus station. She was taller than Shaw by quite a good bit – making it easier to keep eyes on her – with hair just a shade darker than Root’s.

Shaw followed after, force pairing her phone with the number’s. She switched her earpiece on and asked, “You there, Finch?”

“ _Yes, I am, Ms. Shaw. How is your mission with Ms. Groves?”_

“No one’s died yet.”

“ _Well, that is a positive sign considering.”_

“Our number is some professor,” Shaw said, “and Root’s looking after her baby.”

“ _Baby? Oh dear. You left Ms. Groves_ alone _with the child?_ ”

“Didn’t really have a choice,” Shaw said. “Today, she’s Josephine Mauchly, distinguished nanny, or something.”

“ _Where does this professor teach?_ ”

“NYU, I think.”

“ _I’ll contact Detective Fusco to take over tailing duties.”_

Shaw snorted, “There’s really no need, Finch. Besides, I kind of like the idea of Root having to handle a baby by herself for an entire day.”

“ _As amusing as it is in theory, it would also be incredibly irresponsible for us to leave an infant in her care-_ “

“Fine,” Shaw interjected. “Call Fusco. Whatever.”

Finch just had to go and ruin her day.

* * *

“ _Have you found Mr. Miller?_ ”

“Yes,” Reese said. “He just slipped into Advanced International Political Theory, ten minutes late.”

“ _I assume Mr. Miller’s been a perfect citizen otherwise,_ ” Finch said.

“Perfect? Maybe not. But ordinary, sure,” Reese said.

“ _Keep me updated._ ”

“Will do.”

* * *

Shaw switched off with Fusco halfway to the university and spent most of the bus ride back to Dr. Cordero’s apartment with her head against the window, soothed rather than irritated by the bumps along the way. As she got off at the station, Shaw connected a call from Root.

“ _So_ ,” Root’s voice was higher than usual – poorly hidden panic if Shaw had to guess, “ _short of murdering someone, how do you get a baby to stop crying?_ ” The unmistakable sound of a baby wailing in the background pierced Shaw’s eardrums unpleasantly.

Despite that, Shaw smirked. “You were right, Root. I _am_ having a lot of fun.”

“ _Shaw_ ,” Root said warningly (pleadingly). “ _It’s been screaming its head off for three and a half minutes straight._ ”

“Did you check her diaper?”

“ _Yes_.” Root sounded utterly disgusted and that delighted Shaw all the more.

“Feed her?”

“ _Yes_.”

“Burp her?”

“ _Uhm…_ ” Root moved around and the source of the screaming got louder.

Shaw flicked her earpiece on so that she had both streams connected – Root and Finch.

“Finch, I-“

“ _Good lord, what is that noise?_ ”

“Root and the baby.”

Finally a loud belch could be heard. As if miraculously, the crying stopped.

“ _Oh, thank God_ ,” Root exhaled.

“ _I see things are going well, Ms. Groves_ ,” Finch said disapprovingly.

“ _I followed my strengths for a reason, Harold,_ ” Root said flatly.

“Anyway,” Shaw interrupted, cutting communication with Root off now that her baby issues were resolved, “I left Dr. Cordero in Fusco’s care. You sure you want me back with Root?”

“ _More than ever_ ,” Finch said. “ _And Ms. Shaw? Please hurry._ ”

* * *

Several hours of tailing Marc from one end of the campus to the other had Reese a little restless. The kid went to classes, went to lunch, went to the library, back to classes – it was almost worse than doing paperwork, he mused.

“Nothing so far, Finch.”

“ _Well, keep on him. In other news, Detective Fusco is currently tailing Ms. Groves and Ms. Shaw’s number._ ”

Reese raised an eyebrow and asked, “Then where are they exactly?”

“ _Looking after the number’s baby._ ”

That gave him pause.

“Is that really the best idea?”

“ _That is yet to be determined. Anyway, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that both numbers are from this university. I’m thinking there's a link.”_

“Let me know what you find," Reese said and listened to Marc's professor drone on about the justice cascade.

* * *

As Shaw approached the apartment building she was lucky enough to pass by another one of the building’s residents who held the door for her (thought it did little to ease her security concerns). Dr. Cordero’s apartment door was propped open marginally to allow Shaw to slip inside and lock it behind her. It was quiet – suspiciously so – and Shaw drew her gun.

“Root?”

“Shhh,” Root said, emerging from the hallway and hurrying over to Shaw. “I just got it to sleep.”

“Her,” Shaw said anyway, albeit a little quieter. She tucked her gun away inside her purse.

“Right,” Root said in her usual manner, but the nervous fiddling of her sleeve gave away her true emotions.

Dark amusement twisted Shaw’s lips into a grin, and she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this nervous before, Root. Think I’ve found your Achilles’ heel.”

Annoyance flickered in Root’s eyes briefly before she smoothed it over quickly with an innuendo and a smirk, “If you poke and prod around some more, maybe you’ll find another one.” She gave Shaw a flirtatious once-over.

As always, Root managed to find a way to turn the tables on Shaw, to needle and simper and irritate. And Christ, did it ever irritate.

“I could just leave, you know,” Shaw threatened.

“No,” Root said too quickly, fingers latching onto Shaw’s wrist. And to deflect from her desperation, Root asked, “Where’s Dr. Cordero?”

“Lionel’s watching her,” Shaw said, shaking Root’s hold off. “For some reason Finch thought you’d need a little help.”

“And you came running to my aid?” Root asked in that self-assured tone of hers.

“The baby’s aid,” Shaw corrected, reveling in the way Root’s face dropped slightly in disappointment.

* * *

“ _Oh dear_ ,” Finch said. “ _Mr. Miller is a student in one of Dr. Cordero’s classes. It looks as if he’s currently failing the class._ ”

“People do take grades pretty seriously.”

“ _Mr. Miller also spoke with the Dean of Students concerning the matter a few weeks back, but no action was taken against Dr. Cordero.”_

“So we got his number and Root and Shaw got hers? This can’t be good.”

 “ _Indeed. Keep a close eye on him, Mr. Reese. I have a bad feeling about all of this_.”

* * *

While the baby slept, Shaw took a seat at the dining table and cleaned her guns, keeping an eye out for movement in the street below. Root paced for a bit before Shaw snapped at her, and instead Root took a look at Dr. Cordero’s computer.

“There’s not very much,” Root said, absorbed in the details on the screen, nails tapping erratically against the laminated surface of the table. “A complaint or two from students, but nothing serious.”

Shaw took a break from cleaning and slapped her palm on top of Root’s hyperactive left hand, squashing her fingers down.

Root jolted a little but tilted her head to apologize with a slow smile.

A cry interrupted her words, and Root and Shaw groaned in tandem.

Shaw figured it would be prudent to follow Root to the baby’s bedroom this time – in case Root ‘accidentally’ developed butterfingers or something. Root bit her lip as she lifted the baby from the crib like she was made of the most delicate glass. Awkwardly, Root rubbed the baby’s back with her free hand and made shushing noises.

Instead of helping Root, Shaw observed the interaction with mirth.

“You look scared,” Shaw commented lazily over the screams.

“Scared of what I’ll do if she doesn’t stop screeching.”

“Threatening babies now? Tsk tsk,” Shaw admonished light-heartedly. She was enjoying Root out of her element, maybe a little too much. Sighing, Shaw said, “Give her here.”

Gratefully, Root handed the baby over to Shaw, and Shaw debated pretending to fumble and drop the baby half-way but decided against it in the end. If Root had a heart attack, she’d probably be expected to deal with that too.

“What’s her name?” Shaw asked.

“Ana.”

“Okay,” Shaw said and rummaged through the blankets in the crib to grab a pacifier. She walked the wailing infant to the bathroom where she ran the pacifier under warm water before offering it to Ana. “There, there, Ana. There, there.”

Ana wrapped her lips around the pacifier, and her cries died down.

“Hand me a tissue,” Shaw directed at Root.

Root obeyed, and Shaw wiped up the snot and tears from Ana’s face. As Shaw carried the baby into the living room, she caught sight of Root’s expression, eyes wide and lips pressed together tightly.

“What?” she grumbled.

Root blinked, and the look was gone, replaced by a familiar easygoing grin. “Such maternal instincts, Shaw. Who would’ve guessed?”

“Didn’t you ever babysit when you were younger?”

Root gave her a look. An excuse-me-I-stole-$100,000-from-a-drug-lord-when-I-was-14-why-would-I-want-$5-an-hour kind of look.

“Like your cousins or your cousins’ children? I don’t know.” Shaw rocked Ana back and forth gently, allowing her to become accustomed to Root and Shaw’s presence.

“It was mostly just my mom and me,” Root said with a shrug.

“I thought you were good with kids,” Shaw said.

“Only when I can reason with them,” Root said, running a hand absently through her hair.

“Only when you can _manipulate_ them,” Shaw corrected.

“Same thing.”

* * *

At around six in the evening, Marc finally broke his routine and headed off campus. Reese watched as Marc looked around nervously (suspiciously) before ducking behind a building.

“Something’s happening, Finch.”

Marc’s bluejacked phone allowed both Finch and Reese to hear the conversation that followed.

“ _Is it done?_ ” Marc asked in a rough whisper.

“ _Patience, man. We’ve got people on it right now. There’s still the matter of payment_ ,” a deep voice said. The sound of rustling paper was followed by, “ _I’ll be back for the second half tomorrow._ ”

Marc reappeared from behind the building, and Reese broke into a brisk jog past him to spot the man that Marc had been conversing with. “Bad news. The guy Miller was just talking to is definitely Brotherhood. Pretty sure Miller’s the perpetrator.”

“ _Can you pick up Mr. Miller? I’ve contacted Detective Fusco about escorting Dr. Cordero somewhere safer already.”_

_“_ On it.”

* * *

“ _Ms. Shaw_ ,” Finch’s voice came over clear and urgent in her earpiece.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“ _My number hired a member of the Brotherhood to threaten and possibly harm your number_ ,” he informed her. “ _Detective Fusco will protect Dr. Cordero for the time being, but I’d recommend staying on guard in case they come around the apartment to look for her._ ”

“Too late,” Shaw said, looking down at the street below and spotting a member of the Brotherhood in a beat-up Cadillac down below.

“ _Ms. Shaw?_ ”

“Root,” Shaw called out, drawing her attention. “Take Ana, we’ve got incoming. One down there in a car, one coming up.”

“It’s probably for the best if you keep a hold on her,” Root said breezily, withdrawing a Taser from her purse.

“Root,” Shaw hissed. Ana gurgled unhappily at the decision as well.

“ _Ms. Groves, Ms. Shaw,”_ Finch said sternly.

“Go,” Root tilted her head toward the bedroom and got in position next to the doorway of the entrance.

“You'll pay later,” Shaw promised and adjusted her grip on Ana who had decided to take an interest in Shaw’s hair.

* * *

“Hello, Dr. Cordero,” Fusco said, stepping into her office. “NYPD, Detective Lionel Fusco. You might be in a bit of danger, I’m going to need to escort you to somewhere safer.”

Dr. Cordero gaped a little, frozen with confusion.

Fusco shoved his hands in pockets and sighed, “We’re on a bit of a schedule, Professor.”

She snapped to, shoving her belongings into the briefcase on her desk. “What kind of danger? What’s going on?”

“If you’ll follow me, I’ll tell you all about it.”

* * *

“Professor Whistler,” Fusco acknowledged as he guided Dr. Cordero into the back of the black SUV with Finch.

“Detective Fusco,” Finch replied, laptop open across his lap. “And Dr. Cordero, I presume.”

“Do you teach here? Are you in danger too? What’s going on?” she asked rapidly.

“Yes, possibly, and I think it has something to with a disgruntled student of yours,” Finch said. “I’m just here as a consultant.”

“Oh no,” Dr. Cordero said, face ashen. “My daughter?”

Finch looked at Fusco and hesitated, “She’s in… capable hands.”

“Yeah, the best,” Fusco said, catching on. “Very... sensitive ladies.”

* * *

A knock resounded against the wooden door.

“Come in,” Root said lightly.

The handle turned and the moment Root saw the man’s face, she pressed the Taser into his neck. His body convulsed and fell to the floor with a thump. Nonchalant as ever, Root dragged his body inside and kicked the door shut behind her.

“Now,” Root said, squatting down so that she wasn’t towering over him quite so much, “how about calling off that hit?” She set about thinking of how best to get him to comply.

“Josephine,” Shaw’s voice interrupted her thought process. “We should go. Before anyone else shows up.”

The name didn’t sit quite right, but it was probably for the best that the Brotherhood remained unaware of her for now.

“Right,” Root said, setting down the sharp steak knife that Shaw hadn’t even noticed her pick up. “Pity, I was looking forward to having a little fun.”

“Not in front of Ana,” Shaw said disapprovingly.

“She can’t even understand,” Root complained as they grabbed a few diapers and wipes before heading out.

“It’s the… principle of the matter, or something,” Shaw sniped, careful not to jostle Ana as they took the stairs down to the garage. “Got it,” Shaw said as they arrived. “Reese says we need to head to the precinct.”

Root withdrew a set of keys from her purse and pressed the unlock button twice on the fob, following the honking sound the corresponding car made.

“You had a car this whole time?”

Root shrugged, “I wasn’t sure what it was for until now.”

“Car keys,” Shaw said incredulously. “What else could they be for?”

“Sorry, Sameen,” Root said, pushing her towards the passenger side. “I’m driving.”

To make things worse, Ana took it upon herself to smear drool all over Shaw’s arm at that moment.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

* * *

Though Reese intended to apprehend the number, he found that he was a few steps too late. Two officers dressed in NYPD black had gotten there before him.

“ _Marc Miller? We have a few questions for you if you’re willing to come down to the station to talk with us._ ”

“ _To the station? Why not here?_ ” Marc stammered. “ _I don’t have to go with you._ ”

“ _It’s in your best interest_.” One of the officers stepped forward, jabbing something into his neck.

From the way Marc stiffened, Reese realized-

“Finch, there’s something very wrong.”

He strode forward, hand flying to his gun.

Marc’s eyes widened and his knees buckled, the other officer barely catching him. They pushed Marc into the back of the police car before Reese could draw his firearm. Reese broke into a run, but even as he sped up, he knew he was too late to catch up. The two officers slipped into the vehicle and sped off, leaving Reese in the dust.

Reese bent over, hands braced on his knees as he regained control of his breathing.

“ _Detective Riley?_ ”

“They took him.”

“ _Who?_ ”

“Two cops. This reminds me too much of the HR days, Harold. I think our number is both the perp and the victim.”

* * *

“Kidnapping a baby is not how I imagined this mission would go,” Shaw said irritably as Root steered the car out of the garage.

“No kidding,” Root said.

A bang exploded into the air and reflexively Shaw curled around Ana to protect her. The passenger side window shattered as another shot sounded out loud, shards battering against Shaw’s face and side.

“Shaw!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 to follow in three days. Rating due to change.
> 
> Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, and Happy Nowhere-Is-Open-And-I-Can't-Order-Delivery to everyone else! Thanks for reading.


	2. II.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer #1: My experience with babies is almost as limited as Root’s.
> 
> Disclaimer #2: I forgot Lee's age.

Her right cheek stung but Shaw didn’t care to examine the damage quite yet. Startled by the loud noises, Ana wailed in fright, tears leaking from the corner of her eyes.

“Shaw!”

“I’m fine,” Shaw growled as the vehicle swerved, Root determinedly attempting to avoid their assailants. “But I can’t protect Ana like this.”

“Well I can’t hold her and drive.”

“Well,” Shaw said and pulled out her USP Compact, clicking the safety off, “the professors won’t be happy about this.”

She leaned out the window, left arm still gripping Ana tightly, and fired a few wayward shots that served more as a warning than anything. The back window shattered, glass exploding all over the backseat, and both Root and Shaw ducked instinctively.

“ _Change of plans: do not go to the police precinct! It’s not safe there_.”

“A little busy here, Finch,” Shaw said and glanced into the side view mirror before aiming carefully. _Bang!_ And down went the passenger in the pursuing car.

“Where should we go then?” Root asked and yanked the wheel, turning into an alleyway recklessly. Shaw withdrew to better hold onto Ana, arm tingling with the beginnings of numbness.

“ _I’ve sent you the coordinates for a safe house_ ,” he said. “ _I don’t think I need to say it, but please lose the Brotherhood before you get there.”_

“These guys aren’t Brotherhood,” Shaw yelled over the baby’s continuous cries.

“ _Samaritan?_ ”

“I can’t tell.”

Root glanced into the rearview mirror and said, “Triad by the looks of the car.”

“ _Do you have any idea why the Triads might be after you, Professor Cordero?”_

_“T-triads?”_

“That’s a no,” Shaw mumbled, still checking every now and then for an opportunity to take down the driver.

* * *

“Triads, what’s going on?” Dr. Cordero repeated, her voice high and shaky.

Finch regretted coming along for the ride, knowing his presence and communication with Reese and Shaw had only elevated Dr. Cordero’s panic.

Fusco shot him a look in the mirror that asked the same thing, _what the hell is going on?_

His façade as a professor wasn’t going to hold up for long in front of Dr. Cordero.

“I’m not sure yet,” Finch admitted. “Detective Fusco, if you could pull up over here please.”

“What? Why?” Still, Fusco did as he was told.

“Maybe I should also be on my way,” Dr. Cordero said.

“It’s not safe for you out there, Dr. Cordero,” Finch said seriously.

“Yeah,” Fusco chimed in. “Listen, I know this is all really confusing – believe me I know – but we’re here to protect you.”

“Okay,” Dr. Cordero said, clasping her trembling hands together. “I just want to know that my daughter is okay.”

“We’ll work on reuniting the two of you as soon as possible.” Finch shut the laptop and slid out of the car, briefcase in hand. Fusco rolled down his window, and Finch said, “Take her to this address. Detective Riley will meet you there after he’s collected Mr. Miller.”

“Wait, Glasses,” Fusco protested and dropped his voice low, “wanna fill me in on what’s going on here?”

“If only I knew,” Finch muttered and headed down the street, leaning heavily on his cane for support.

* * *

Reese raced to his car and wrenched the door open, checking for the location of Marc’s phone.

“They’re headed west towards the Hudson,” he said and started up the vehicle.

“ _Hurry, Mr. Reese. There are more players involved than we originally thought. Mr. Miller might have some answers for us._ ”

“Where are you, Harold?”

“ _On my way back to the underground station. I think I’ll have a better overview on the situation from there.”_

The car lurched forward, and Reese guided it onto the street, setting his phone on the dashboard to act as GPS.

“ _Ms. Groves believes the Triads are involved. Do you know anything about their activity lately?_ ”

“They’ve been keeping their heads down,” Reese said, straining to remember details from the reports he had read earlier in the morning. “Captain Moreno has suspicions that they have something big lined up.”

“ _Well, it looks like we’ve found that ‘something big.’”_

* * *

Finch hobbled down to the station and took a seat in front of his computers, mouse clicking rapidly. Bear barked excitedly at his return and nudged his nose into Finch’s leg. Ignoring Bear for the moment, Finch connected the communications between Root, Shaw, and Reese, with Fusco’s number on quick-dial.

“Communications tied,” Finch informed the three of them. On his second screen he brought up their locations so he could track their movements. “How is the baby doing?”

“ _Ana’s fine,_ ” Root said easily. The sound of gunfire audible in the background was the only betrayal of her statement.

Bear whined as Finch winced.

* * *

“We need to ditch the car,” Shaw said after she’d successfully taken out the driver. “The Triads will be looking for us in this, not to mention the police.”

Perhaps realizing they were out of imminent danger, Ana gave her lungs a rest and quieted down to mere sniffling. Root nodded and turned into a no-camera zone several miles later, slowing to a stop before hopping out. A gas station could be seen roughly a block away, and they made their way there.

“Goddamn heels,” Shaw muttered angrily, wanting nothing more than to slip them off.

“You should probably change its diaper,” Root said offhandedly as she checked something on her phone.

“Her,” Shaw corrected again. All she could smell was gunpowder, but Root was usually right. “Alright, I’m taking her to the bathroom. But it’s your turn next time.”

Root waved it off.

Shaw clenched her jaw and turned to see Ana’s face streaked with dried tears and snot dripping from her nose. Cringing, Shaw pulled a clean diaper and several wipes from her purse, using the wet cloth to clean Ana up.

“You’re a mess,” she said to Ana who looked at her with big brown eyes.

Root’s fingers tangled with hers momentarily, pulling one of the clean wipes out of her hands. Carefully, Root dabbed at Shaw’s cheek, sending a stinging pain down her jaw, and the towelette came away stained red.

“I can do it myself,” Shaw said, reproaching.

“But it's so much better with a helping hand,” Root said, the corner of her mouth quirking upwards.

Shaw rolled her eyes and ignored the comment.

There was a short line for the convenience store’s single bathroom, and Shaw ended up behind a stocky woman. Root entered behind her and browsed the aisles up and down, fingers skimming various products.

“Oh my Lord,” the woman in front of Shaw drew her attention forward with a squeal. “Your baby is just the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Shaw bit down on the words she desperately wanted to say: _you can have her._

She forced a sunny smile and said, “Isn’t she?”

“How old is she?” the woman asked, reaching out to brush Ana’s chin. Suddenly shy, Ana turned away and buried herself into Shaw’s shoulder. “Aw!”

“Nine months,” Shaw said through clenched teeth and aching cheeks.

Root caught sight of her making conversation and raised a skeptical eyebrow. Shaw purposefully avoided her gaze but then Ana started to cry again.

Jesus fucking Christ. It was never ending, Shaw thought.

“Oh no,” the awful woman said with a sympathetic pout. “She must be scared with so many strangers around.”

Shaw gently rocked Ana and made quiet shushing noises as best as she could. A gentle touch settled on her lower back, and Root’s fruity perfume washed over them comfortingly. Ana reached for Root, and surprisingly, Root took her from Shaw’s embrace.

“Now honey,” Root said in that grating sugary sweet voice that never failed to set Shaw’s temper flaring, “you’re making a big fuss and bothering all these nice people.”

“Oh, it’s no problem really!” God, the nosy shrew just wouldn't shut up. Shaw clenched her fist and thought about how satisfying knocking her out would feel.

Ana simmered down, at ease in Root’s more familiar arms (and being even a little further away from the incessant chattering of that woman probably helped too), and stared at the nearby gum aisle curiously.

The woman looked from Root’s easygoing smile to Shaw’s strained one and concluded, “Y’all must be the most gorgeous family I've ever seen.”

Root’s amusement soared with a huge grin, and she leaned into Shaw’s side, one arm encircling her waist. Shaw was two seconds away from kneecapping both the random lady and Root.

Luckily the bathroom freed up, and it was the woman’s turn. She turned to Shaw, however, and said, “Why don’t ya’ll go first? I’m not in that much of a hurry, and I can see your adorable baby girl is getting antsy.”

“Thank you so much,” Root gushed, pulling Shaw along and past the woman into the bathroom.

“I’m gonna hurt you,” Shaw growled the minute the door closed behind them, locking it with a violent twist.

“Not in front of the baby,” Root mocked and set Ana down on the pull-out changing table. And then with a wink, "Later.”

Shaw scowled and shoved Root away none too gently.

Ana kicked and squirmed uncomfortably on the hard surface making it difficult for Shaw to get a good hold.

“I’m keeping you alive so you should cooperate,” Shaw said to Ana in a clipped tone.

“You have such a way with words, Sameen.”

Ana stilled enough for Shaw to get on with changing her diaper.

“And children,” Shaw said smugly. As she disposed of the dirty diaper, she realized, “How come you’re suddenly so good with babies?”

“Just have to lie to them with your body instead of your words,” Root imparted on her.

“Right."

* * *

The red dot representing Marc’s phone came to a rest at the shoreline of the Hudson, and Reese redoubled on speed. Turning on the sirens would only alert the two rogue (at least, so he assumed) police officers to his arrival so he veered off the road and onto a strip of privately-owned beach, wheels spinning in an effort to find purchase.

In the distance he could see a black and white NYPD car beside two specks dragging a third towards the water. As he drew nearer he could make out that the larger of the two officers had a gun to Marc’s head.

“ _Why did you take out a hit on the professor? Answer me, you little piece of-“_

_“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”_

_“You hired the Brotherhood to kill her!”_

“ _He’s not going to talk, just shoot him_ ,” the other officer said.

“ _Wait! It was some dude, Kyoshi. He told me who to talk to, he gave me the money, he never told me it was a hit, he said they would just rough her up a little. I don’t know anything else, I sw-“_

Marc jolted and then collapsed, body sinking into the sand, dark blood seeping into the brown grains.

Reese’s chest tightened and his breath caught in his throat.

The two officers finally noticed Reese’s speedy approach and sent a few warning shots his way. Reese returned fire, clipping the taller officer’s shoulder. Several more shots deflated the front tires of Reese’s vehicle, and the cops made their getaway as Reese braked and leapt out of the car.

He kneeled and continued exchanging shots until the police car disappeared from view. Sure that they were out of sight, he stood and dusted the sand from his pants. Finally he made his way to Marc’s body laying close to the murky waters.

Marc’s green eyes were open wide and glassy, and Reese had to tear himself away.

“They’re gone,” he said solemnly. “Finch, did you get all of the conversation?”

“ _Yes. And Mr. Miller?_ ”

“Dead,” Reese said, the word leaving his lips reluctantly.

There was a pause – long enough for Reese to think that Finch had cut off communications.

“ _Well, it sounds like the officers aren't looking to harm the professor, but it’s still probably for the best that you rendezvous with Detective Fusco and Dr. Cordero.”_

“And Miller’s body?”

“ _I've anonymously called it in._ ”

Reese pursed his lips and rose to his feet a little shakily. It had been awhile since they’d lost a number like this. He should've been faster- should’ve apprehended him sooner- should’ve-

“ _Mr. Reese_ ,” Finch’s urgent voice drew him out of his spiraling. “ _We did what we could. A professor and her nine month old daughter still need us._ ”

“You're right,” Reese said. “I’m on my way.”

* * *

“So,” Fusco checked the rearview mirror. She looked like she needed a distraction from her thoughts. “You adopted just recently?”

“Yes,” she said absently. “Just a few months ago.”

“And you’re raising her by yourself?”

“Yes.”

“That’s admirable,” Fusco said. “It’s hard raising a kid even with help.”

“You have children, Detective?”

“A son,” he said. “But he’s already 12. Grow up real fast, and you don’t even notice it.”

Dr. Cordero nodded, gazing out the window, and said, “I hope so. First few months and I’m already putting her in life-threatening danger.”

He didn't know how to reassure her out of that. Instead he continued with the way of distractions and asked, “Why did you decide to adopt? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oh, some lofty philosophical crap,” Dr. Cordero chuckled. “I've always been a loner really, never thought about having a family. But at some point I thought I had an obligation to raise a child.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have the financial means,” she said, “and there are so many orphans in the world. It would be… unethical of me not to try and help improve the life of even one child.”

“Oh.”

“It’s not the usual rhetoric, I know. But I thought I could provide a good home for her.”

“It sounds like you've done a pretty good job so far,” he said in an effort to cheer her up.

Dr. Cordero gave a dry chuckle and said, “Can’t even protect her from my ‘disgruntled’ students.”

“Hey,” Fusco said seriously. “I’m a cop. I know what it means to put my family in danger. But someone’s gotta do the jobs we do. I wouldn't want my son to think that he should only help others when there’s no personal risk involved. Besides this isn't your fault, Professor.”

She looked thoughtful at that and hummed, “Hm, I hope you’re right.”

* * *

“There’s three parties in this,” Root said distantly as they walked out of the gas station.

“ _Yes, I suspected as well_.”

“Did the Machine tell you that?”

Root hesitated. “Not exactly.”

Shaw had somehow gotten saddled with Ana again, and neither of them seemed happy with the situation. “So it’s – what – the Triads, the Brotherhood, and Miller?”

“Miller was a pawn,” Root dismissed.

“ _Yes, it seems that someone from the Triads tricked him into hiring the Brotherhood assassins._ ”

“ _But who were those police officers working for then?_ ” Reese asked.

“Third player,” Shaw deduced, hoping one of the nerds would fill in for her who that was.

“I’m guessing it has to do with the baby,” Root said, tossing a sidelong look towards Shaw and Ana.

“ _How do you figure, Ms. Groves?_ ”

“The Triads didn't tail Dr. Cordero to her workplace,” Root said. “Not hard to figure out her schedule either since her office hours are posted online. Could have something to do with Ana’s biological parents.”

“ _And the Brotherhood also ended up at the apartment instead of the university_ ,” Reese said. “ _But the police officers showed up for Marc. I don’t see how this all fits together._ ”

“ _I’m inclined to agree with Mr. Reese. We just don’t have enough facts yet,”_ Finch said. Root tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly in disagreement, but made no verbal indication. “ _How is your progress to the safe house?_ ”

“We’re on foot,” Shaw said, shifting Ana’s weight to her other arm. “But Ana’s safe, and they've lost our trail for now.”

“ _Good. Let me know if any further complications arise._ ”

“We’ll be fine, Harry,” Root said airily and disconnected. Her fingers brushed Shaw’s ear as she reached over, and Shaw instinctively jerked away from the touch.

“What?”

Root repeated the motion, and this time Shaw batted her hand away, switching the earpiece off herself. She expected Root to say something now – whatever it was that she didn't want the boys overhearing – but Root simply headed purposefully into a nearby children’s park.

A particularly strong gust of wind sent a woman with a young child in her arms running after her hat. Nonchalantly, Root walked up to the abandoned stroller and gripped the handle, steering it away.

“Root,” Shaw said through gritted teeth, speeding up now that they’d commandeered a random woman’s stroller. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Annoyed, Shaw glanced around to see if anyone had deemed them as suspicious, but parents and children alike ignored them in favor of swings and monkey bars. Perhaps as a testament to hanging around Root, Ana seemed rather calm and in favor of not drawing attention to them at that moment either.

“Well, we don’t exactly have the time to head to Wal-Mart right now,” Root said, unconcerned.

“Then what were your freaking preparations all about?” Shaw hissed.

“A girl’s gotta keep some sort of mystery.”

“Root,” Shaw said more urgently, free hand tugging on her sleeve. “What aren't you telling me?”

Root pursed her lips, features slipping into a muted sadness, and she turned away. It was a quick transformation, and Shaw wondered how much of Root was always an act.

“The world changed overnight, Shaw,” Root said tiredly, “and everyone else gets to keep going on like it hasn't.”

Doomsday Root always threw Shaw off a little. She could handle overly flirtatious Root and murderous Root – even preferred it sometimes – but mopey and spiraling into depression Root? No. Finch could deal with that, Shaw thought. But Root had cut off communications with Finch for the time being.

Last time she’d been this depressive had led up to her kamikaze-ing and nearly getting killed by Martine. Maybe that was why she had insisted Shaw hold onto Ana for the time being, so she could skip off on a suicide mission at the drop of a penny.

“Take Ana,” Shaw said, shoving the baby into Root’s arms and taking the handle of the stroller herself. “My arms are sore as hell.”

Root acquiesced, but her expression didn't change.

She tried again, willing the right words to come to her lips, “The world is always changing. And we have to keep on moving too. Literally.”

Root checked over her shoulder and saw a black sedan with tinted windows pull up. They turned their faces away, and Shaw pretended to be absorbed in playing with Ana. The car moved on.

“Triads,” Root confirmed as Ana grabbed onto Shaw’s finger.

“Come on,” Shaw said, pulling herself away, “we need to get to Finch’s safe house.”

* * *

Reese stepped into the storage unit and pressed against the far corner of the wall until it gave in and an entrance formed. He ducked his head and entered the secret area Finch had shown him several weeks ago.

The secret room was generously furnished with several couches, a dining table matched with three chairs, and a queen-sized bed. In the bathroom adjacent to the room was the regular toilet, shower, and sink, with a small armory stored in the cabinets

Perfect, really.

Fusco was sat on the couch making light conversation with the number.

“Hello,” Reese said, drawing their attention. “I’m Detective Riley, Lionel’s partner.”

Dr. Cordero took his hand loosely in a handshake and asked, “Do you know if my daughter is okay?”

“Yes,” Reese replied. “She and the nanny are with Officer… Grey.”

“ _I think it might be best to omit a few details concerning her daughter’s situation._ ”

“It's still quite dangerous for you,” Reese continued. “But they’re on their way here, okay?”

“I just don’t understand any of this. Why is this happening?”

“One of your students, Marc Miller, was tricked into hiring local gang members to hurt you,” Reese explained calmly. “Unfortunately, the hit is still out and some corrupt cops are in the mix, so you've got to stay here.”

“Marc?” She seemed surprised by the revelation. “I knew he was more than a little dissatisfied with his grades in my class, but _paying_ someone to come after me?”

“Unfortunately it’s spiraled out of his control,” he said, remembering Marc’s open lifeless eyes. “So all we can do now is keep you safe.”

* * *

Shaw and Root resumed communication with Finch as they stepped into the abandoned storage unit.

“We’re here,” Root said quietly, lifting Ana out of the stroller.

“ _The far corner, push on it._ ”

Shaw did as he said, palm pressing flat against the concrete, and the wall opened into an entrance.

“Fancy.”

“ _I had this site prepared a few weeks ago,_ ” Finch said. “ _It’s nowhere as inconspicuous as the subway station but it’ll do for now._ ”

As they entered into the main room, Dr. Cordero made a choked noise and rushed to take Ana from Root’s arms. Root was careful in the exchange, movements cautious.

“Thank you,” Dr. Cordero said tearfully as she touched Ana’s cheeks with her fingers.

Root’s casual swagger transformed into something more tentative, and Shaw realized she was slipping back into her cover identity.

“Ana and I were out of harm’s way thanks to Sam,” Root said kindly and handed the professor a bag of Cheerios. “In case she’s hungry.”

Shaw side-eyed her suspiciously; she hadn't even noticed Root stealing from the convenience store.

Reese put a hand on Dr. Cordero’s shoulder and guided her toward the couches. “Why don’t you get some rest? It’s been a tough day.”

Fusco came over to Root and Shaw and nodded in acknowledgment.

“So what- you two just ran around town with the baby?”

“Something like that,” Root said, curving smirk returning.

“Poor thing,” Fusco said. “Enough trauma for an entire lifetime you’d think.”

“I’ll have you know, Lionel,” Shaw said with a matching sardonic smile, “we’re great with children.”

Fusco seemed to think he was out of the loop on an inside joke the two of them were sharing.

“ _I don’t mean to interrupt, but it looks like the Cadillac from earlier has just parked in the adjacent lot. I believe it’s a member of the Brotherhood._ ”

Shaw immediately pulled out her gun, smile wiped off, and said, “I’ll go check.”

“ _Be careful, Ms. Shaw._ ”

She headed out and asked, “Where in the lot, Finch?”

“ _You can get a clear shot if you head to the roof of the storage unit. There’s a sliding ladder nearby._ ”

The ladder clanged as it slid down and into place, and Shaw swore at the impractical dress Root hadn't let her change out of. She tore the sides so that two slits ran down either side of her thighs, kicked off her heels, and climbed up.

“Two more cars have pulled up, Finch.”

“ _I see them_.”

Shaw heard the unmistakable thunk of Root’s boots as she followed Shaw’s path up to the roof. There was a fair bit of cover – probably designed with this kind of scenario in mind. In Root’s hands were two pistols and she kneeled beside Shaw, eyes set with a familiar glint.

“ _Five total_ ,” Finch said.

Shaw peered over quickly and, mostly for herself, said, “Three with submachine guns, two with pistols.”

“ _I would advise_ extreme _caution, the Brother-“_

Shaw fired three shots, taking down two of the closest members, and heard Root’s corresponding shots, seven in total. They’d been good about aiming for a non-lethal takedown, and this time was no different.

Finch’s sigh was resigned and expected.

“It’s taken care of, Harold,” Root said smarmily.

“Jesus Christ,” Fusco’s voice came from below them. He looked up through the opening that the ladder fit through.

Shaw surveyed their work and, satisfied that the Brotherhood members wouldn't be a further threat, slid down back into the storage unit. Root followed suit but actually stepped down the metal rungs one at a time.

“Can I have my gun back now?” Fusco asked Root as her shoes hit the concrete ground.

“But it’s so much better with two,” Root said brightly, shoulder just barely brushing Shaw’s.

“Yeah, yeah. What’s the difference between a sociopath and a psychopath?” Fusco asked, eyes darting from Root to Shaw and then back. “The number of guns she’s holding.”

Root and Shaw exchanged a disdainful look and lowered their firearms.

“How long have you been saving that one for?” Shaw asked, lips curling in distaste.

Root handed Fusco his Glock back.

“ _What_ is _the difference_?” Reese wondered.

“ _It looks like the location’s been leaked_ ,” Finch interjected. “ _There are more Brotherhood members on their way. It’s only a matter of time before the commotion draws the Triad’s attention as well._ ”

“We definitely can’t hold off both the Triads and the Brotherhood,” Fusco said.

“Could be fun,” Shaw shrugged as Root nodded in agreement.

“ _While I have the utmost faith in all of your abilities,_ ” Finch said, “ _it’d probably be our best interests to either pit them against one another or-_ “

“I have an idea,” Root interrupted.

“ _Oh?_ ”

“Sameen,” she said cloyingly. “Remember that little trick with the handcuffs?”

Shaw narrowed her eyes threateningly.

“I need you to teach me it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 to follow in 4-5 days.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments, I really appreciate it! Hope you enjoyed this as well.


	3. III.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: There are a few minor factual errors as well as discrepancies with canon done purposefully for the sake of the narrative.

“ _10-50P called in on the corner of Madison and 106 th – hysterical woman, brunette, around 5’9”.”_

“Det. Fusco here,” Fusco radioed back. “Picked her up already. She’s going on claiming her baby’s been kidnapped.”

“Not my baby! The baby I was looking after!”

“I heard you the first time, m’am,” Fusco said as respectfully as he could, and continued on, “seems a little bogus to me, but I’m taking her down to the station to get her statement anyway.”

Some static came from the radio that Fusco took to be an affirmation.

He threw a look at Root through the rearview mirror, now calm and reverted back to her usual self. The faulty handcuffs that Shaw had modified glinted in the sunlight as she moved her wrists experimentally in them.

“You sure this is gonna work?”

“I thought you’d know better than to doubt me,” she said, settled comfortably in the backseat.

“It’s been a weird day, Cocoa Puffs. Weirder than usual, I mean,” he said. “Just want to know you’re okay going in alone.”

“Why, Lionel,” Root mocked, “is that concern I detect?”

“Whatever,” he grumbled and took a sharp left into the station’s parking lot.

“I’m still disappointed, Shaw,” Root said, knowing that she only had a few moments before Fusco would remove her earpiece. “I’ll have you know I’m a _very_ tenacious student.”

“ _Yeah, well_ ,” Shaw said, annoyance clear in her tone, “ _that’s not why I wouldn’t teach you._ ”

“Worried I’d get a little hot for teacher?”

Fusco made a disgusted face and pulled to a stop, turning off the ignition and getting out of the car.

“ _No_ ,” Shaw said through gritted teeth. Root could imagine her livid expression and indulged in a small smile at the thought. “ _This way is just more reliable._ ”

Fusco opened the back door for her expectantly.

“I knew you cared, Sam,” Root said and continued before Shaw could growl anything more, “see you on the flip side.”

She removed her earpiece and placed it delicately into Fusco’s palm as she slid out of the backseat.

* * *

“ _Three Triad cars have converged in the lot_ ,” Finch said. “ _They’ve got gas masks and… grenades!_ ”

Shaw and Reese exchanged a calculating look.

“ _Smoke grenades, it seems,_ ” Finch continued. “ _One detonated in the lot._ ”

“For cover,” Reese speculated.

"Or someone fucked up," Shaw chuckled.

Several shatters could be heard quite clearly.

“ _They’ve broken the windows of the unit now._ ”

“They’re trying to smoke us out,” Shaw concluded, pulling on a pair of spare boots about her size that Finch had had the foresight to store in the closet.

“They must want Ana alive,” Reese said quietly, shooting a discreet glance at Dr. Cordero from the corner of his eye.

“Well, at least we’re all in agreement on that one point,” Shaw said.

“We have to get moving,” Reese said. “Finch?”

“ _Unfortunately, I don’t have any other safe houses_ ,” Finch informed them.

“What about… you know, the warehouse?”

“What warehouse?” Shaw demanded as Reese pointedly evaded her questioning gaze. “Have you two been holding out on me?”

Finch coughed delicately.

* * *

“Sit tight, Ms.-“

“Two thugs broke into the apartment and attacked me and just took her!” Her raised voice drew the attention of several nearby officers.

Fusco sighed at Root’s dramatics and said, “Alright, m’am. Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

“Can you _please_ take these off first?” Root held out her hands, indicating the handcuffs pointedly.

“No way,” Fusco said. “Not after that swing you took at me earlier.”

Root sat gingerly in the chair on the opposite side of Fusco’s desk and took a tissue from the box. She blew her nose a little exaggeratedly. Fusco held back his own eye roll in case the Captain was watching.

After Fusco had taken Root’s statement, he leaned closer conspiratorially and asked, “What now?”

Without breaking character, Root sniffled, “Patience.” From her periphery she spied two officers that had been keeping an eye on her for the past few minutes. They matched Reese’s description of the two officers who had murdered Marc Miller.

“Could I possibly have some coffee?” she asked Fusco.

He narrowed his eyes but acquiesced, “Yeah, sure. I’ll be right back.”

Sure enough, Root’s hunch was rewarded as the two officers approached her. The station was too crowded for them to drug her or simply drag her away without causing a scene.

“Dr. Cordero?”

She looked up in faux surprise and said, “That’s my employer.”

“There’s an ongoing investigation into the matter already,” the shorter of the two lied. “If you’ll come with us and answer a few questions, it’ll be much appreciated.”

“But the detective…” Root said reluctantly but stood anyway.

“My partner will stay behind and inform him of the developments,” the taller one said, scratching his scruffy chin.

“Okay,” Root said and allowed him to lead her out of the station, her footsteps small and hesitant.

“I’ve just parked in the alleyway here,” he said, and Root had to force her muscles to keep from tensing up in an obvious way.

She wasn’t surprised when the butt of his gun met with the back of her head painfully.

* * *

Four cars, sixteen Triads – four to a car as was customary – all armed with Glocks. The odds would’ve been just fine if Reese and Shaw didn’t have a mother and her child in their protection.

Reese held Ana close to his chest, the baby bundled in several of the spare blankets they’d found lying around the safe house. As he edged out of the storage unit, Reese managed to stay out of their line of sight by ducking behind various crates scattered about the premises.

Ana woke when he bent a little too low and began to cry.

All sixteen Triads swiveled and glared him down.

Reese smiled – briefly considered waving – and tilted his head.

And then ran.

* * *

Root suppressed a groan as she awoke, eyes fluttering open, and took stock of her surroundings quickly. She appeared to be slumped in a leather club chair in the corner office of a modern Wall Street type of building, handcuffs still restricting her movements.

Good, things were going to plan.

“Sorry about that,” a well-dressed man stepped into view. Root assessed his stance, his suit, and his mannerisms. Judging by his accent, he had spent most, if not all, of his life in Hong Kong.

“What,” Root’s throat was impossibly dry and her words came out in a croak, “the knocking out, the kidnapping, or whatever this is?”

“I had to take some necessary precautions,” the man defended as he sat in a chair opposite to her. “I’m going about this all wrong, really. My name is Jun.”

Root’s tongue flicked out to wet her lips. “I would shake your hand, but…”

“Another necessary precaution,” Jun said.

“Right.”

“I just have some questions,” he said, “if you’d be so kind as to answer them.”

Root pursed her lips in concentration as she twisted her wrists as Shaw had instructed.

Jun signaled for the officer from earlier to leave the office, closing the door behind as he left. Turning his attention back to Root, Jun said, “I swear on my life that I won’t hurt you.”

Root chuckled, hands finally free of the handcuffs, and lunged forward, the tip of her hidden blade pressing into the skin of his neck.

“Pity, I can’t promise the same,” she said with a dangerous smirk. “I normally would ask more nicely, but… my friends are in danger so I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

* * *

Reese ducked behind a nearby storage unit as bullets embedded into the brick wall near his legs. His pursuers shouted to each other in Mandarin, and Reese remembered enough to decipher the general meaning though he stumbled through the grammatical parts of the translation.

_Not yet... cannot kill._

He rushed to the next available cover and returned with a few of his own shots their way as well, catching one or two in the knees. Unfortunately this move also sent the bundle in his arms cascading to the ground, revealing-

“He doesn’t have the baby! It’s a diversion!”

“Oops,” Reese said lightly. “It seems they’ve found me out, Finch.”

“ _The use of your phone to broadcast a baby’s cries… well it was only ever going to work in the short term anyway_.”

“Cheer up, Harold,” Reese said in a hoarse whisper, taking down two more Triad members with a few well-placed bullets. “It worked for the most part.”

* * *

After Finch had declared the area clear of any threats, Shaw pulled Dr. Cordero to her feet, Ana scooped up safely in one arm.

“Come on,” Shaw said quietly – mostly in an effort to not startle the baby. “We’ve got to get moving.”

Dr. Cordero’s face was paler than before, a sure sign of anxiety, and Shaw forced down her irritation to guide the professor by the waist out into the parking lot. Shaw set her sights on one of the Brotherhood’s abandoned vehicles, kicking an already incapacitated man swiftly in the head to knock him unconscious.

* * *

“So,” Root said, “I know you’re Ana’s biological father.”

Jun gave her a wary look and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She pressed her knife into his neck with more force, droplets of blood forming along the edge as he yelped.

“Like I said,” she hummed, “I’m in a bit of a hurry.” When he still didn’t speak, Root assured him, “I’m not looking to hurt her. In fact, my associates and I have been working to save her from whatever mess you’ve created.”

Jun swallowed thickly and asked, “Who are you really? Who are your associates?”

“Concerned third party. Friends of Dr. Cordero’s if you really must know,” Root said. “I just want to know why the Triads are after you.”

“How do I know you’re not with them?”

“You really think I’d be here asking you questions – rather patiently, I might add – if I was with them? Please.”

After a bit of consideration, Jun sighed and admitted, “My wife and I were business partners with the Triads for a few years – mostly smuggling certain items from Shanghai to specified locations all over the world. After my daughter… Ana, you say she’s called? After Ana was born, my wife wanted to cut all ties with the Triads.”

Root said, “Understandable.”

“Unfortunately, the way she went about it was to steal a rather sizable amount of money from their coffers. She thought she’d be able to pin it on another business partner of the Triads, but things went south,” Jun recounted. “I left with Ana shortly after my wife was captured since I knew we were both in danger. I had no choice – I gave her up for adoption and hoped for the best.”

“I’m assuming your wife didn’t give up the money or where she hid it,” Root said.

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“Let’s just say I’m familiar with how the Triads work,” she said with a slight tilt of her head.

“I’ve been trying to keep discreet tabs on Dr. Cordero and Ana,” he said tiredly. “I just wanted to make sure that they were safe from the Triads.”

“Not discreet enough,” Root said, the words coming out as an admonishment. “But I understand now. Do you know where the money is?”

“No,” Jun insisted. “If I did, I would’ve given it back. Money has done nothing but hurt me and my family.”

“Do you have a phone I could borrow?” Root asked, stowing her knife away finally.

“First drawer on the right,” Jun said, eyes flicking to his desk.

“So, I’m going to trust you not to do anything drastic while I get in contact with my friends,” Root said patronizingly. “And in return, you’re going to need to trust that I am working to ensure your daughter’s safety. Do you think you can do that?”

Jun nodded reluctantly.

Root withdrew Jun’s iPhone from the indicated drawer and quickly dialed Finch’s number.

“ _Hello?_ ”

“Ana’s biological father is the one who sent his guys after Marc Miller,” Root said, fingers smoothing along the desk’s edge. For a fleeting moment she missed her familiar black nail polish, but the thought passed and she refocused herself. “His wife stole money from the Triads, and she’s hid it so well no one knows where it is. I’m assuming they’re using Ana to try and draw him out, probably thinking he'll be able to pay off the debt.”

“ _And the Brotherhood?_ ” Finch asked.

“Most likely to be used as scapegoats for the whole fiasco,” Root surmised. “I guess the Triads don’t want their presence here to be perceived as alarming by the authorities just yet.”

“ _Mr. Reese, Ms. Shaw, are you listening?_ ”

“ _Yes._ ”

“ _Yeah._ ”

“ _Now that we have more details, we need to decide our next plan of action,”_ Finch said.

“Jun will call off his police officers,” Root said, not bothering to look at Jun for confirmation.

“ _Good, that means I can contact the police to help Mr. Reese_ ,” Finch said. “ _Unfortunately, the warehouse that Ms. Shaw is headed to contains certain… items that we can’t afford for anyone to find._ ”

“ _Items?_ ” Shaw perked up at that. “ _Don’t tease me, Harold._ ”

 _“I don’t think you’ll be disappointed, Ms. Shaw. In any case_ ,” Finch continued, “ _the number and her daughter are still at immediate risk._ ”

“Keep me updated,” Root said, forcing levity into her inflection. “In the mean time, I have some other business to attend to.” She turned to Jun and said, “Lay low and call your dogs off and your daughter will make it out alive.”

He sputtered, but she ignored him and walked out the office, knife and phone in hand.

* * *

“Where’s the baby?” one of the Triads demanded – the makeshift leader of this particular group, Reese assumed. “Tell us and we’ll let you go.”

Reese took a cheap shot at the leader, kneecapping him while he was distracted and ducked low again as bullets flew over his head. A ricocheting bullet caught Reese in the shoulder, surprising him into falling onto one knee heavily. Pain rippled along his neck, and he clenched his jaw to brace himself. As he reloaded his gun with a new mag, Reese considered his options.

Sirens, he realized dimly. He could hear sirens in the background.

The Triads must have heard them too since although the sounds of gunfire didn’t cease, the guns were no longer aimed at Reese.

The gunshot to his shoulder had missed his brachial plexus, but it still worried him that there was so much blood gushing from the wound. Despite that, Reese still tried to help the police as best he could, sending a few carefully aimed bullets towards the Triads.

After the last one went down, Fusco jogged over to him, arms straining to lift him and carry his weight.

“You okay there, partner?”

“Never better,” Reese joked through slight trembling.

“Here, let’s get you to a hospital,” Fusco said, unable to keep the worry off his face.

“Shaw,” Reese groaned, “and the number and the baby.”

“ _You’re in no position to be of any help to them at the moment, Mr. Reese_ ,” Finch reminded him in his ear.

Reese swallowed, his expression stubborn, but he still sat on the hood of Fusco’s car and asked, “Can you get me some gauze?”

“Yeah,” Fusco said and opened the passenger door to get the first aid kit. When he looked up, Reese was gone. He swore, “God damn it. Every time.”

* * *

Shaw left the vehicle in a ditch and escorted Dr. Cordero and Ana towards Finch’s warehouse. It looked more like an abandoned factory than a warehouse, but Shaw quickly forgot about that as they stepped inside.

“You kept this from me?” Shaw asked, voice shrill and angry at the discovery.

Several cabinets were lined with various rifles and pistols and cases of bullets. Shaw’s fingers ached to touch every single piece of equipment, but she resisted the urge for now.

“You’ve got three CAW grenade launchers, a third generation FN SCAR-L, _and_ a fucking M136 AT4?”

Dr. Cordero looked a little scandalized by her colorful language and sudden aggressiveness around such weaponry.

“ _Ms. Groves and I… liberated the Latvian mob of their considerable arsenal a couple of weeks ago,”_ Finch explained.

“ _Root_ knew about this but not me?” Shaw snarled.

Visibly alarmed by the armory they’d walked into, Dr. Cordero carried Ana away from the most lethal looking of the bunch and sat on a bench in the corner.

“ _We decided it’d be for the best-_ “

“We,” Shaw repeated. “You all knew about this. Wow. This is just…”

“ _Ms. Shaw,_ ” Finch said, _“there are more pressing issues at this time. The Brotherhood hacked into local traffic camera feeds, so there is little doubt in my mind that they’ll be headed to your location in a rather short amount of time. Perhaps, instead of dwelling on what we may or may not have kept from you-“_

“Alright,” Shaw snapped, “but don’t think I’ll forget about it, Harold.”

“Are we safe here?” Dr. Cordero asked Shaw, fingers brushing gently against Ana’s forehead.

“For now,” Shaw said, keeping her expression impassive so as not to betray the uneasiness she was beginning to feel.

“ _Mr. Reese is on his way to you, Ms. Shaw, but he’s been injured,_ ” Finch said, worry coloring his tone.

“Don’t worry, I found a first aid kit. It should be enough for now."

“ _How is the professor holding up?_ ”

“Okay, I think,” Shaw said. “Don’t think we can take much more running about though.”

“ _And the baby?_ ”

Shaw looked at Ana – her half-lidded eyes and drowsy expression.

Peaceful, Shaw thought. “Fine,” she said.

“ _As always, your wonderful descriptors inspire a lot of confidence in me, Ms. Shaw._ ”

“I do what I can,” Shaw muttered and grabbed one of the SRS sniper rifles from the cabinets.

* * *

Not too long afterwards, she spotted Reese through the lens of the rifle as he made his way into the warehouse. If not for his tense posture, Shaw would’ve believed that he was fine. The sound of his shoes against the creaky wood echoed throughout the warehouse as he made his way to them three flights up.

“Don’t worry,” Shaw said out of the corner of her mouth to the number. “It’s just Detective Riley.”

Reese’s feet finally reached the top step, and he winced with the movement.

“You look like shit,” Shaw said.

He offered a faint smile.

“Get over here,” Shaw said, clearing an old work bench. “Finch said he stored some basic medical supplies, so you’ll just have to make do.”

Reese eased himself onto the bench and removed his jacket and shirt, ignoring the startled look from Dr. Cordero.

“Pretty stupid of you coming here like this,” Shaw said quietly as she worked on cleaning the wound.

“Thought you might need some help,” Reese said, voice gravelly.

“You’re on baby duty,” she declared after patching him up as best as she could.

He groaned against the pain.

Shaw punched his good shoulder lightly and said, “Geez, you whine more than Ana.”

“ _I’ve been looking into the Brotherhood’s activity for awhile now_ ,” Finch said. “ _I think I may have found something that will get them to rescind the hit on Professor Cordero._ ”

“Sounds good,” Shaw said, “but what about the Triads? We need to find a way to end all of this for good.”

“ _I_ _think I can help on that front_ ,” Root’s voice interjected in the call.

“ _Welcome back, Ms. Groves._ ”

Reese, having recently turned on his earpiece again, exchanged a quick skeptical look with Shaw. 

“ _A few years ago, I did several jobs with the Triads_ ,” Root said, “ _and I know exactly what they’ll want in return for backing off._ ”

“Maybe you could be less vague about the details,” Shaw said, lips quirking into a frown.

“ _I could_ ,” Root said simply, “ _but I don’t think any of you will like my plan very much if I elaborate._ ”

“Root,” Shaw said, and then more insistently, “Root!”

“We can’t worry about her now,” Reese said with a look out the window. “Brotherhood’s here.”

“Fuck.”

* * *

Root stood at the corner of one of New York’s busiest intersections and looked directly into a nearby security camera.

“I’m going to need your help,” she said, fingertips running along the two pistols she'd tucked in the waistband of her pants.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 4 to follow in 4 days.
> 
> This ended up being more of a Team/Case fic than I anticipated, but I hope you enjoyed nevertheless. Thank you once again to those who left kudos and comments - very encouraging.
> 
> Happy New Year to those who follow the Gregorian calendar!


	4. IV.

The last time she’d used a sniper rifle side-by-side with someone with comparable skills had been the debacle of Dubai, 2009. But she and Reese worked well together, instinctively shifting focus from target to target with very little verbal communication. She liked the way the SRS rifle felt in her arms, under her fingers, alive and dangerous, and Reese allowed her the space she needed to work with it. So hopefully this wouldn’t end like Dubai had – stuffed in the back of an illegal food truck with an ivory letter opener digging into her ribcage.

Of the seven approaching Brotherhood cars, only two of the drivers made it to the back lot uninjured, and thus out of Shaw and Reese’s sight. The five other cars swerved and crashed into nearby fences and low brick walls with no driver to guide them to a stop. Dazed Brotherhood members spilled out of the cars, and Shaw made quick work of them, efficiently kneecapping them one by one.

Reese stood guard, shoulders squared, by the staircase, ready to take out any incoming threats.

“ _From the traffic feeds, it looks as if they’re sending in three armored trucks as well,”_ Finch said. “ _I think Dominic’s caught wind of who exactly is protecting Dr. Cordero._ ”

“Let them come,” Shaw said, enjoying the recoil of the weapon in her hands. Grinning, she asked, “What do you say to - uh - using that AT4 to scatter them, huh?”

“ _No! That is a last resort weapon, Ms. Shaw_ ,” Finch said, predictably disappointing her. “ _I’ve hacked into the traffic controls, so I’ll make sure every light they hit is a red. And maybe a blockade or minor accident will do us some good, but either way they’ll still be there within two hours._ ”

Reese jumped from the top floor down midway on the staircase, surprising one of the approaching Brotherhood members and took him out with a hard punch.

Shaw sighed, “Alright, I won’t use the missile, but no guarantees when things go pear-shaped, Finch.”

* * *

Root strode into New City Buffet, having recognized a familiar mark on one of their advertisements. The lobby had four buffet serving tables surrounded by various overstuffed booths and plastic chairs as well as dangling out-of-season holiday lights lining the ceiling.

“How many?” the woman at the front podium asked her in a heavily accented tone.

“Just me,” Root said, stepping cautiously onto the white tile floor.

“Follow me,” she said, leading Root to an empty booth. “Anything to drink?”

“May I borrow your pen, please?” Root asked and pulled a napkin from the table’s dispenser. She hastily wrote a few characters down:

朋友信義

The woman pursed her lips, examining Root’s untidy scrawl, and dropped her accent, saying, “We have more comfortable seating upstairs if you’d like. More private.”

“I would like that very much,” Root said sweetly.

* * *

The computer screens in front of Finch displayed various databases as well as pdfs of information concerning communication and radio streams. As he had known and suspected, the Brotherhood was using the same tactics that Vigilance had – changing up ways of communication: encrypted and self-deleting texts, coded instructions through calls connected with stolen phones, and the like. He recalled Root’s decryption of Vigilance’s coded radio messages and followed his hunch.

Finch placed a call, “Detective Fusco.”

“ _Yeah?_ ”

“Is there some way you can ensure the NYPD avoid this address?” Finch asked, texting him the location. “Suppose a one-mile radius? Just for an hour or two.”

“ _What, are you crazy? What kind of powers do you think I have exactly?_ ”

“Thank you, Detective,” Finch said and hung up.

* * *

The top floor of New City Buffet was almost entirely empty save for a lone mahjong table occupied by four players and the various bodyguards stood nearby. Cheap and thick purple curtains covered the windows, and the lamps lining the walls illuminated the room with warm light.

Root’s boots echoed with each step, alerting the mahjong players to her presence. They turned – perfectly in sync – to watch her approach. One of the bodyguards cracked his knuckles threateningly, and another picked up a 12-gauge shotgun.

Intimidation tactics 101, Root thought gleefully. Did they really think that’d work on her?

She was stopped before she could reach the table, a man much taller and much beefier than Reese stepping into her path.

“What do you want?” he asked her gruffly.

Root merely smirked. She took the napkin from the hostess’ hand and waved the characters in front of his face like a white flag. Reluctantly, the bodyguard moved aside, and the mahjong players gave her their full – if menacing – attention.

“Good evening,” Root said pleasantly.

“Who are you?” one of the four asked suspiciously. He had a Hong Kong accent, but most likely wasn’t the leader of this ragtag bunch. Too green.

“I did some work with your Taiwanese branch back in 2006,” Root said and her brow furrowed as she tried to recall some of the finer details of those operations. “Blackmailed a CEO, revitalized your heroin trade in Guangzhou, and hacked into the 14K’s communications, just to name a few.”

“That was eight years ago.”

“Good calculating,” Root said with a patronizing simper. “The way I remember it, I’m owed a few favors.”

“Think again then,” he said. All seven bodyguards cocked their firearms, leveling them at her.

Root sighed, disappointed, and said, “Get Tai-lung on the phone. He’ll tell you.” The Sun Yee On had really gone downhill since her departure.

“Tai-lung’s dead, lady.”

“We both know that isn’t true,” she said.

He narrowed his eyes, but this tidbit of information seemed to convince him that Root was someone of importance. Though her Cantonese was quite rusty, Root still had excellent listening comprehension but pretended that she didn’t understand the vulgarities he was spewing about her over the phone.

“Root?” he asked her finally.

Root flipped the napkin over, showing where she had signed her name.

根

“I assume Tai-lung vouched for me,” Root said and continued conversationally, “I hope he’s doing well. Faking your own death can be quite painful.”

“What do you want?” he asked, clearly in no mood for her small talk.

“Jun,” she said. “His wife’s debt? I’ll pay it.”

“You’re the one who’s been helping that _ngong gau_?”

“Not me,” Root said innocently, “just some associates of mine. They’d really appreciate it if you stopped going after him and his daughter.”

“Fine,” he said sullenly. “As long as you pay it.”

“I’ll wire it to Tai-lung,” Root said. “Have fun with your game – though the gentleman to your right is most definitely cheating.”

Accusing eyes settled on him and, as a rowdy fight broke out, Root took her leave, smiling all the way out.

* * *

“ _Ms. Shaw?”_

“We’re fine,” Shaw said, reloading. “Reese is out back taking care of a few stragglers.”

“ _And Dr. Cordero?_ ”

Shaw spared a short glance at Dr. Cordero’s pale face as her body trembled.

“In shock,” Shaw said, “but unharmed.”

“ _Well you should have a short reprieve – an hour, I estimate – before the Brotherhood’s trucks arrive_.”

“Right.”

“ _You should see what you can do for the professor_ ,” Finch advised.

Shaw suppressed a long-suffering sigh, “Fine, I’ll play nice. But I had to cancel my shift for this. I hope you remember the sacrifices I make for this team, Harold.” She set the sniper rifle aside carefully and offered, “I can take Ana for a few.”

Dr. Cordero nodded shakily, handing over the sleeping infant.

“Well, will you look at that,” Shaw said to herself, “baby girl slept through the whole thing.”

Reese clunked up the stairs, lips pale, but movements still steady.

“You’re not the police,” Dr. Cordero said quietly.

“ _Careful_ ,” Finch warned unnecessarily.

“M’am?” Reese kneeled next to her, one hand resting comfortingly on her shoulder.

“Who are you?”

“Detective Riley,” Reese repeated patiently.

“Who are you really?” she asked.

“Did the adoption agency tell you where Ana came from?” Shaw interjected. Dr. Cordero shook her head and Shaw continued, “Her parents worked with one of the leading Triad groups, but had a nasty fall-out. They put her up for adoption to get her out of danger.”

“ _Ms. Shaw, what do you think you’re doing?_ ”

“We’re their friends,” Shaw said, “and we promised we would keep you and their daughter safe.”

Dr. Cordero looked away, processing the information, and said, “Thank you. For the truth.”

“ _That is incredibly risky,_ ” Finch reprimanded. “ _Your covers-_ “

“It’s okay,” Reese said, startling both Dr. Cordero and Finch. “It’s all going to be okay.”

Shaw turned, Ana snoozing soundly in her arms, and examined the warehouse’s contents once again.

Reese walked to stand next to her and said, “Too bad we’re staying anonymous. Would’ve really enjoyed a picture of you holding the baby.”

“Are you trying to make me kill you?” Shaw growled lowly.

“A gun in one hand and a baby in another? Motherhood really suits you.”

Shaw slapped Reese’s hurt arm, eliciting a reproachful wince. She handed off Ana to Reese as she hunted about the warehouse for some food. The only thing worse than shooting on an empty stomach was dying on one.

Reese cradled Ana in his arms, expression something that Shaw couldn’t read – gentle, tender, maybe even a little sad. Perhaps he was thinking of all the things he would never have in life. Sap. Normality was overrated.

“Any word from Root?” she asked Finch restlessly.

“ _Not for awhile…_ ”

Root’s light and airy voice cut across, “ _Worried, Sameen?_ ”

Shaw rolled her eyes and wondered how long Root had been waiting silently for Shaw to bring her up.

“ _Ah, Ms. Groves, how did your meeting with the Triads go?_ ”

“ _Well,_ ” Root answered vaguely. “ _We don’t have to worry about them anymore._ ”

 _“I could use your assistance with the Brotherhood as you’re positioned quite conveniently_ ,” Finch said.

“ _Well, I have about an hour before I need to scoot on out of here_.”

“ _That should be enough time._ ”

“You nerds gonna fill me in?” Shaw asked, giving up her brief search for sustenance. “Or you aiming to just surprise us?”

“ _You have mentioned how much you enjoy surprises,_ ” Finch said amusedly.

Shaw scowled.

* * *

The Brotherhood’s communication hub was two blocks down, and Root made her way there ducking and dodging various cameras. The wire to Tai-lung would take about another 56 minutes to complete according to her timer, and then her cover would be blown. She had to move – and fast, if she wanted to be anything but a hindrance.

Three guards were posted outside the door leading up to the hub, smoking and chatting amongst themselves.

“Three in front, Harold,” Root said. “How do you suppose I get in?”

“ _Avoiding a shoot-out would be nice_ ,” Finch said, “ _but I suppose we can only use the tools available to us_.”

“Tools available,” Root repeated thoughtfully. The corner of her mouth curved upwards as she bumped into a man wearing a nice suit, hand dipping into his jacket pocket. Her fingers purposefully clumsy, she withdrew his wallet and took off running in the direction of the hub.

“Hey!” The man whirled around, chasing after.

“Help!” Root screamed, crashing into one of the Brotherhood members. “He's trying to hurt me!”

“ _Root?_ ”

“Don’t worry, li’l mama,” the Brotherhood guard said assuredly, facing the man whose wallet she’d taken, towering over him with a hard glare. As a fight broke out between the three guards and the unsuspecting pedestrian she’d pulled into the mix, Root slipped into the hub building unnoticed in the commotion.

“Relax, I’m in,” Root whispered.

“ _That’s what she said_ ,” Shaw said, obviously smug to be the one using innuendo this time.

“ _Ms. Shaw, shouldn’t you be focused on protecting the number?_ ”

“ _Whatever._ ”

Finch made a few clicks and said, “ _This is now a secure connection between just the two of us, though I can’t be sure Ms. Shaw didn’t bug the station yet again._ ”

“Second floor, you said?” Root asked, sure that Shaw had indeed done just that.

“ _If my information is correct, it should be, yes._ ”

Root pulled the two pistols from behind her back, one in each hand, steady and prepared. As she nudged the door to the second floor open, she spotted two people fiddling with the radios and two more idling about on either side of them. Without another thought, Root stepped in, firing six precise shots, bringing the four Brotherhood members down to the carpeted floor, groaning and incapacitated.

Stepping between the writhing bodies carefully, Root grabbed the communications cipher and a folder full of radio logs.

On her way out the back door she passed by the janitor and grinned apologetically, “Sorry about the mess.”

He gaped after her.

Root strode confidently out into the alley and down the street, spotting a woman on a motorcycle stopped at the intersection. She pressed the tip of one gun into the woman’s side, safety on – but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her – and said, “I need to borrow this.”

Visibly frightened, the woman slid off and relinquished the bike. Root tossed her the man’s wallet from before, stowed her guns away, and eased the helmet off the woman’s head.

“Thanks,” Root said sincerely.

_41 minutes - wire transfer._

* * *

“Just keep your head down,” Reese said to Dr. Cordero. “I promise it will be all over soon, and you and your daughter will go home safely.” His words were quiet and hoarse, but it seemed to comfort her all the same.

Shaw peered through the scope and watched the trucks come into view, muscles tense.

“ _Hold your fire_ ,” Finch reminded her itchy trigger finger.

As the heavy trucks pulled to an abrupt stop, a lone rider atop a motorcycle came to a screeching halt alongside the passenger doors. Several pistols and many more SMGs cocked in the biker’s direction, but she merely laughed it off.

“ _I’d like to make a deal with you, Link_ ,” she said. Root, Shaw realized belatedly. New leather jacket, flashy entrance, casual demeanor – she should’ve known.

“ _And just what do you think you can offer me?_ ”

Root dangled something that Shaw couldn’t make out even through the magnifying scope, and Link stepped into view, into range.

“ _I could just shoot you and take the cipher too._ ”

“ _You could,_ ” Root said, “ _but someone up there probably has a sniper rifle trained on your head just waiting for that exact order._ ”

Though Shaw’s posture had relaxed since Root came into view, she tensed again now, her jaw clenching painfully. Root was playing around, and Shaw sure as hell didn’t appreciate it.

“ _You’re also missing a few files, some stuff I don’t think you’d want falling into the wrong hands_ ,” Root said lightly. “ _So shooting me would just be a huge mistake all around_.”

“ _You’ve gotta be insane, trying to cut a deal like this,_ ” Link said. “ _Just who the hell are you?_ ”

“ _That’s not important_ ,” she said swiftly. “ _Look, the guy who took out a hit on the professor up there? He’s already dead. You really want to go out spending all this effort on a dead man’s hit? I’ve got your cipher, I’ve got your communications logs, the way I see it, it's a win-win for you.”_

“ _You’ve got some guts_ ,” Link said, voice tinged with muted admiration. “ _Trying to sell back what you've stolen._ ”

“ _So have we reached an understanding?”_

 _“Yeah, fine. We’ll leave your professor alone. Now where are you keeping the files?_ ”

Root tossed him the cipher and said, “ _505674671_ , _now go._ ”

The string of seemingly random numbers appeared to have appeased Link as he waved his hand, signaling for the Brotherhood to withdraw.

“ _Unfortunately, my time here is up as well, and this location won’t be secure for much longer,_ ” Root said to the rest of the team. “ _I’ll see you when I see you._ ”

She slid her phone under the fence and towards the plot opposite the warehouse, cutting off communications.

“ _It appears that Ms. Groves’ cover has been blown, Decima operatives will be there shortly. Take what you can_ ,” Finch said. “ _I’m covering her tracks as best I can._ ”

Shaw escorted Dr. Cordero and Ana out of the warehouse as Reese packed up the weapons and loaded them into the trunk of Shaw’s stolen sedan.

* * *

The next morning, Finch sat on a park bench, working studiously to correct his student’s latest assignments. Somehow this day job had given him a more cynical view on human nature than working with victim and perpetrators of violent crimes ever had. But really, even twelve-year olds would know the difference between ‘affect’ and ‘effect’. Finch winced, circling that particular typo with his red felt pen.

“Looks like you’re having fun,” Reese said, startling Finch.

“Oh, Detective Riley,” Finch exhaled in relief and looked up to see Reese’s arm in a sling. “I’m curious, how exactly did you explain your injuries to your captain?”

“Dr. Cordero gave her statement,” Reese said with a glimmer of a smile. "I just happened to be in the right place at the right time."

“You should try and take a break every now and then,” Finch said with a hint of reproach. “Your day job is considerably more dangerous than mine or Sameen's.”

“What do you suppose Root gets up to?” Reese wondered pointedly.

“Her antics are just as troubling as yours," Finch sighed.

“It’s because we know there’s still so much work to be done, Harold,” Reese said. “There’s no time to take a little breather, not when-“

“We saved a mother and her child,” Finch said, marking the top of the assignment: 11/15.

“It’s never enough.”

“I know," Finch said, brow furrowing, "but it’s the best we can do.”

Reese looked troubled by his answer.

* * *

Shaw stepped down into the abandoned repair station, a little surprised to find it empty. She flicked on the overhead and wall lights.

“Finch? Reese?” she called out.

“Just me, I’m afraid,” Root said, swiveling in Finch’s desk chair to face Shaw. Curled blonde hair framed her face today, and she wore a formal jacket and slacks. She stood and pulled the wig off, tossing it carelessly to the side. With a pained smirk, she approached Shaw, hands shaking, "So, that's where the light switch is."

“Jesus, you’re a different person every day.” Shaw said it dismissingly, scathingly even, but it affected Root more deeply than it should have.

Somehow Shaw sensed that – sometimes Root forgot that Shaw was trained beyond just violence – maybe through the twitch of her cheek or something equally inconspicuous.

“Well, who are you today, Root?”

Root swallowed and wondered the same.

“Most recently, in a bit of pain,” Root said and moved her jacket to the side to reveal a bandage across her midriff stained through by her blood.

And then she collapsed, Shaw catching her just in time.

“Knew you couldn’t wait to get your hands all over me,” Root said with a weak chuckle.

“Shut up,” Shaw grumbled, but couldn’t hide the worry that tinged her tone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 5 to follow in 3-4 days.
> 
> Disclaimer #1: I am obviously not affiliated with any gangs, so all gang-related stuff is merely based on reality, but still fiction. #2: My knowledge of Chinese characters is limited - the same goes for Cantonese. Consulted an expert source (aka, my mother).
> 
> It's all falling action from here. Thanks for reading and leaving kudos and commenting - I can't emphasize enough how much I appreciate it. And fingers crossed for tonight's episode ~ enjoy.


	5. V.

“It’s not a gunshot wound,” Root said in a tone that she must’ve thought sounded reassuring.

“Well, what is it?” Shaw asked, irritated by the whole situation. The hard surface of the concrete floors wasn’t the most comfortable for either of them, but Shaw didn’t want to move Root until she’d had a chance to assess the extent of the damage.

“That tickles,” Root said instead, faint amusement gracing her features as Shaw stripped Root of her jacket.

Shaw pushed Root’s flimsy t-shirt up to bare her abdomen and placed her hand against the bandage. She pressed down slightly, and Root hissed, flirty words escaping incoherently in the exhale.

“Stabbed,” Root finally managed between sharp gasps.

“Even if there’s no bullet, sticking a bandage on doesn’t magically fix it,” Shaw said darkly.

Shaw pulled at the edge of the bandage and peered at the wound underneath.

“It’s stitched up too,” Root said facetiously, resting against Shaw’s shoulder.

With a hard glare, Shaw stood, and Root slid down, back flat against the concrete. Shaw stalked over to Finch’s computer and connected a call with Reese’s number.

“ _Detective Riley speaking._ ”

“I need medical supplies,” Shaw said. “Some of your Vicodin would be useful too.”

“ _Everything okay?_ ”

“Someone,” Shaw emphasized, “forgot that software omniscience doesn’t mean she’s immune to knives.”

“ _On my way_.”

“You think you can make it to the cot?” Shaw asked, pointing towards the makeshift bed in the corner.

“I might need a hand,” Root said and sat up slowly, the corners of her eyes crinkling with her smile, “or two.”

“Amazing,” Shaw said dully. “I don’t think you’ve lost enough blood if you can still joke about it.”

“Are you offering something, Sameen?”

“Shut up,” Shaw said, though it lacked any real bite, and lifted Root off the floor by her waist. Though Root had quite a few inches on her in height, she was slim enough for Shaw to support her weight easily.

Root acquiesced for the moment, stumbling to the cot unsteadily, barely managing to stay upright even with Shaw’s aid.

“You have really shitty ideas for a genius,” Shaw said accusingly.

“I’m still alive, so they can’t be all that bad,” Root shrugged it off, but Shaw pulled her back by the arm roughly. Root’s brow furrowed as she hid her wince of pain.

“Playing martyr really doesn’t suit you,” Shaw’s voice crackled with anger. Root made to retort something dismissively, but Shaw snapped, “Don’t.”

Root was somber for once, absorbing the implication of Shaw’s words. She hadn’t expected Shaw to finish the thought; their favorite form of communication had always been in the unspoken.

Shaw’s dark eyes filled to the brim with stormy ferocity, and the promise of violence threatened to spill over. An unfamiliar emotion rose in Root’s chest, aching like gratefulness, expanding like affection. She was caught off guard by how intensely – how fiercely – Shaw’s protectiveness had manifested in this moment.

“Shaw,” Root said, the name leaving her mouth all wrong. There was so much more Root wanted to say, desperate and crumbling phrases bubbling hot in her throat, seeking freedom, seared into her memory from turning the words around and around in her head. Instead, she smiled against the tears that threatened to form and forced, “Didn’t know you cared.”

Shaw’s grip on her forearm slackened, and she pushed Root’s limb away, sending her stumbling backwards onto the cot. The tense moment passed, and the silent sullenness that Root had come to associate with Shaw returned.

As Root’s head met the pillow, her exhaustion overtook her, and she fell asleep quickly.

* * *

“Here’s what I could get,” Reese said, tossing her a plastic bag.

Shaw sifted through the contents and mumbled her thanks.

“Is she going to be alright?” Reese asked, casting a tentative glance towards the sleeping Root.

“Just peachy,” Shaw said absently.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” he said.

“You leaving?”

“Got a funeral to attend,” Reese said, expression not quite masking the guilt in his eyes.

Shaw nodded in acknowledgment and refocused on the task at hand.

* * *

Root woke with a groan, eyes snapping open, and she sat up just as abruptly, every muscle in her body protesting the movement.

“Careful,” Finch said, hobbling over to her side. “Ms. Shaw instructed me very specifically not to let you stand or leave.”

Though that knowledge warmed her considerably, Root still felt hollow without the Machine’s whispers in her ear. The silence in the underground station only served to highlight the loss.

Upon seeing Finch’s worried look, Root reassured him, “It’s not as bad as it looks, Harry.”

“I highly doubt that,” Finch said. “A little rest will do you a lot of good, Ms. Groves.”

“There’s still a lot of work to be done,” Root said seriously, “and I’m not very useful if I’m stuck down here.”

Finch was uncharacteristically amused by the statement but still maintained, “And your usefulness is quite contingent on your wellbeing.”

“I suppose the war on Samaritan can wait a day or two,” Root said a little sarcastically, but Finch accepted it as genuine.

“Has the Machine given you a new identity yet?”

“Lauren Hopper,” Root said, “new Navy recruit, but I’m not sure why yet.”

“And how did Ms. Mauchly enjoy her brief stint in child-rearing?” Finch asked, most likely hoping to distract her from attempting to leave.

“Josephine found it wasn’t for her,” Root said, smiling a little. “Babies everywhere rejoiced.”

Finch returned the grin and said, “Well, you and Ms. Shaw seemed quite capable with Ana.”

“Holding Ana in my arms…” Root recalled suddenly, “she was so fragile.” She held her hands out, palms up, and continued, “I’ve hurt a lot of people with these hands, and I was _holding_ her with them.”

“You saved her though,” Finch reminded her, “and like I said, it’s not where you begin-“

“The beginning matters too,” Root said with conviction. “Some blood never washes off, Harold, you know that better than anyone else. But I know now that every life matters – every life has meaning – and most people are worth protecting. It all starts here, Harry, with a baby. Who she will become? Even the Machine can’t see that far with certainty. And saving her was saving all of her possibilities – good and bad.”

She paused.

“And it felt right anyway.”

Finch reached out, laying a hand tenderly on her shoulder, and said, “That feeling is hope. Hope for a better future – hers and ours.” Her fingers settled uncertainly on the back of his palm, and he said, “You really should rest, Root.”

She smiled gratefully at the sound of her name.

* * *

Shaw descended the steps into the station and creeped up behind Finch, waiting for the opportune moment to surprise him. However, as she watched him typing in random strings of code, she heard a whimpering noise. It caught her attention immediately, and Shaw hurried to Root’s side, loud steps announcing her presence.

“Ms. Shaw?” Finch stood, alarmed.

The whimper was from Root’s lips, and she repeated the vulnerable noise again, face scrunching as if in pain.

“Root,” Shaw said, shaking her by the shoulder. “Root, wake up.”

Eyes fluttering open, Root exhaled shakily and took in her surroundings.

“Is everything alright?” Finch asked from his position behind the desk.

“Yeah,” Shaw answered.

“Since you’re here,” he said, “I do need to be on my way to a faculty meeting.”

Shaw did nothing more to acknowledge his departure and simply turned back to Root. She was ready to ignore what she assumed to be Root’s bad dreams, but Root offered a, “Thank you.”

“Sure,” Shaw said, preparing to change the dressings.

“Leaving…” Root said, words slurring, “gets harder and harder each time.”

“Well, you’re definitely not leaving just yet,” Shaw said flatly.

Perhaps it was the mix of Vicodin and exhaustion, but Root deliriously said, “You know, Shaw, before you… only one other person had ever came to save me.”

Shaw swallowed back against the dull ache she felt in her chest – those words weren’t meant to be spoken aloud, she’s sure. She wrapped fresh bandages across Root’s torso and said, “Go back to sleep.”

* * *

Shaw spent the next hour cleaning her guns, only pausing when Root sat up, swinging her legs off the cot. Root rubbed her eyes as she adjusted to consciousness.

"I see you didn't like the stitching job I did," Root said with a quick glance at the medical stitches kit beside her.

"If that's what you want to call it," Shaw said, pretending to be absorbed with her current chore.

"Thanks for patching me up, Shaw."

“You know, I’m still pissed at you,” Shaw said lowly, setting her weaponry aside.

“Me?” Root asked, surprised. “Why?”

Shaw headed over to the bed, leaning against the side. “If I remember correctly, you promised me arson, grand larceny – no, stealing a baby stroller and a package of cereal does not count – explosions, and all that,” Shaw said. “And to top it all off, Finch fucking dangled an AT4 in front of me and didn’t even let me use it."

“Well, let me make it up to you,” Root said, a sultry smile playing across her lips. “I can guarantee a good time since we do have a  _few_ hours to spare."

Shaw failed to suppress a rare genuine smile.

* * *

Root slipped out of the makeshift bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping Shaw. Her bare feet met the frigid floor of the subway station reluctantly, and Root pulled on her clothing piece by piece. The rhythmic buzzing against her hip directed her out of the station and down the street to a safe distance and place. Though it wasn’t too late in the evening, the sidewalks were strangely empty.

Root connected the call, static filling her good ear. Through the static came a coded message, half of one if she understood correctly.

“On my way,” Root said.

Maybe one day she’d get to stay, if even for just one night.

(Maybe, but probably not.)

She rounded the corner and ran into warmth and an intoxicatingly bitter scent.

“Didn’t think you’d shake me that easily, did you?” Shaw asked, cocking one eyebrow. “Besides, you still owe me a steak.”

Root smiled and acquiesced, “Lead on, Sameen.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In light of recent events (COUGH 4x11), I modified this ending from what I previous had in mind to make it a little more canon compliant. Basically pure fluff though because my heart can't take too much.
> 
> I hope this was as enjoyable to read as it was for me when I wrote it. Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to read this little fic - and an extra thank you to those who left kudos and comments.
> 
> Cheers.


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